Blinding Darkness
by iilaiia
Summary: AU tag to Simon Said, what if Sam had had a vision of Dean's mind controled, suicide attemt on that cliffside? Rating for language and mentions of suicide. Two shot
1. Falling Down

Blinding Darkness

Chapter 1 – Falling Down

The metal of the gun was cold against his chin. Dean couldn't even shudder at the sudden sensation, he didn't even have control enough to do that. He could have felt despair, maybe desperation, maybe even fear but none of those emotions came. Just a blinding calm, a feeling of rightness that was frightening in of itself. And his finger tightened on the trigger.

The world around him swept away as he closed his eyes, _I'm ready_, and just as rapidly as the controlling urge to kill himself came, it vanished. Instinct alone pulled the gun away from his head as the shot rang out, missing him by inches. The noise ricocheted throughout the woods and the kick back of the gun still vibrated in his hands. Emotion flooded him at the near miss. Regret. Solid, hard regret that he'd missed.

Dean fell back onto the ground, staring up at the trees above, mind spiraling in circles. Sure, he shouldn't be here, he should have died in that hospital. He knew that. Hell, Sammy knew that even if he didn't want to admit to it. He should be dead and then Dad would be alive and be here with Sam. Maybe actually helping Sam instead of shutting him out, instead of beating him back down like Dean was doing with his inability to focus on anything other the horrible weight of what he knew. He didn't know how Dad had been able to carry it, but clearly he was better equipped. It was all so painfully obvious how this story should have ended. Yet his own hunter's instincts had saved his life, well, that and the shot from Andy when he murdered his own brother.

God, the whole thing just was so tremendously fucked up. His being alive was so wrong, Dean could feel it burning inside him. The wrongness of it all. The unfairness. Why did he deserve to be here and not their father? Sure, Sam and Dad fought like cats and dogs, didn't mean the old man didn't love Sam with a strength unmet. Didn't mean that Sam didn't match that love with his own fierceness. They just needed more time to work it all out. Dean sighed and buried back the tears that came at that thought. Time they didn't have. Time Dean had and their father didn't. So glaringly wrong.

Dean pulled himself back up. _You selfish bastard_, he reprimanded himself, _stop wallowing in your damned self pity and go down there and help Sam_.

He made his way down the ridge, gun in his now steady hand, emotions tightly pushed back to the far recesses of his mind where they needed to be to deal with his brother. Sam never need know what had just happened. Why worry him more, the kid had so damn much on his mind already and Dean was sure that Sam would even find a way to blame himself for Webber's demise.

By the time Dean made it onto the dam, he was clear-minded and composed. He made a quick scan of the street, jogging to a stop beside the distraught Andy. Sam wasn't in his sight and Dean's nerves kicked in.

"Andy? Andy! Where's Sam?" Dean's voice cut through Andy's own private hell as he was staring blindly at his dead twin.

Andy's head snapped up. "What? Oh Sam, he um… he took off. I don't know why. Had one of those vision things I think…"

Dean's eyes went wide. _Oh God no_. "Which way Andy?"

Andy pointed silently into the woods and Dean wasted no more time, tearing off in that direction fear now solidly coursing through him. He raced through the woods, branches catching him in the face, barely even noticing. His only thought was to find Sam. It was overwhelming and he ran.

It had begun to rain lightly by the time he found him. White hot relief hit Dean so hard and so fast that it almost hurt. Sam was kneeling in the spot Dean had almost shot himself mere minutes ago, head bowed but very clearly alive. He was breathing hard, panting almost like he'd run his heart out to get here.

Dean approached slowly, not wanting to startle him. "Sammy? You okay over there?" Dean kept his voice light.

Sam didn't raise his head, his voice was dark. "Peachy. You?"

Dean risked moving a little closer, trying to get a glimpse of his brother's face. "I'm good."

Sam leaned forward then, sniffing loudly in the silence. "Sure, you're good. You're always good. Always strong. Always in control. Never doing anything you don't want to do. I get it, I do." Finally Sam raised his head, staring at Dean with those goddamn huge, brown eyes that cut straight through Dean's defenses.

Dean felt all the air rush out of his lungs and he rushed to explain. "Sam, it was just Webber and his damned mind control, so I don't think you fully understand what…"

Sam's cold voice cut him off. "I felt it Dean. The relief. The regret later when he released you. I know. So don't lie to me."

Dean couldn't even muster up a smirk so he didn't bother to deny it. "So what, Sam? I can't have one moment of weakness? I thought that's what you've been trying to get me to admit to this whole damned time? Well congratulations, you're brother's not fucking perfect. Isn't that what you've been waiting to hear? Isn't that why you've been wanting me to confess?" Anger burned through Dean. His safety net, his faithful fall back. The one emotion he could always reach quickly.

Sam's response was as immediate as it was shocking. He stood and grabbed his brother, pulling him close until they were face to face, nose to nose. Sam's voice shook with emotion and Dean could now see the tears running freely down his face. "You want to die then? You want to end it now? Then fine, we'll do it together because no way you're leaving me alone here. I know I'm a selfish bastard but I can't be here alone. You choose then. You want to end it? I have bullets enough here for both of us." Sam pulled out his silver gun, cocking it, holding it between them.

Dean stared openly at Sam. "Fuck you, man. I'm not suicidal."

Sam's expression didn't waver. "I'm not angry Dean, I'm not mad at you. I'm not judging you. Clearly I'm not doing anything to help you, I think I see that now. If my being here isn't enough to ease how you're feeling and this is your only alternative then do it. I'm giving you permission. Don't live in that pain if you don't have to." Sam's eyes were cold and dead, gleaming with unshed tears and open agony. "Don't stay if you don't want to. Go to Mom, go to Dad, go somewhere better."

Dean shook his head. "Are you out of your goddamn mind?! I'm not going to off myself with your gun! Just because I don't deserve to live, doesn't mean I'm going to shoot myself! I told you, it wasn't me you saw! It was Webber."

Sam cocked his head to the side. "I know what I felt. You wanted it, you liked that he gave you an excuse."

Dean sighed dramatically. "Sam, give me a break okay. It was one moment. Jesus Christ, and thanks for trying to talk me out of it by the way. Thanks a lot for caring."

"I can't feel anything except how you're feeling Dean. I can't focus, I can barely even breath because YOU can't either." Sam fixed Dean with a solid glare and Dean finally heard what he was saying.

"Wait, you mean… you're pulling a straight up Deanna Troy right now?"

Sam's fogged brain can barely make out the Star Trek reference but he shakes his head. "More like I'm finally seeing things the way you see them. Seeing me the way you do and I get it man. I see how exhausting it is. I see how heavy what you carry is. And I do understand, if you can't lean on me then what else do you have? If I can't lean on you then what else do I have?" He fingered the gun and whispered to himself; "what else do I have?"

Dean reached out just then, fear overwhelming his anger. "You want to … hand over that gun then Sammy? And we can talk more." For one awful moment Dean watched Sam twist the gun around so the barrel faced him and then he passed it over to his brother. Dean took the gun quickly, snapping the safety back in place and then sliding it into the waistband of his jeans. He crouched down beside Sam then, staring over at the dam, completely lost for words.

How'd things get so bad so quickly? He didn't really want to kill himself, did he? He certainly didn't want Sam following, the thought of Sam alone in the world with no comfort left to him but a cold gun broke Dean's depression. Sam was right. Goddamn it, Sam was right.

Dean nodded, his voice soft and considerably kinder. "Okay Sam, I get it. I do. Look, I swear, it was just for a moment, I'm not going anywhere okay? Okay?"

But Sam wasn't dissuaded. "I know how you feel Dean. I know." He turned his blank eyes back at Dean. "It hurts you so badly. You hurt so deeply and I can't help you. I don't know how to help you. So really Dean, it's not you that's weak. It's not you that's failed."

Sam staggered to his feet, swaying slightly. "This isn't getting better. You're getting worse and somehow I think it might be my fault." He turned to Dean then, gripping his shoulders tightly, tears running down his dirty face. "I did try, Dean, I did want to help you. I didn't care what you thought of me or what you did to me, all I wanted was you to be better. I did try. And I do care, so much. Please, at least believe that."

Dean's fear slid up a notch. "Sammy…" He put his own hands to Sam's head and almost panicked when they came back bloody. "What the… Sam!" His brother chose that moment to go limp in his arms, head lulled back and the rain dripped down his neck revealing the bruises and a thin red trail of blood.

Dean held on tightly, not letting him fall to the ground. "Shit." _Why the fuck didn't I check for head wounds before this?_ He mentally berated himself. All this talk of suicide and death had freaked him out completely. Sam seemed so resigned, so defeated. Dean shook his head, clearing it. He had to get Sam out of the rain, clean him up, patch him up and then things would be different. That's all. This is just a run off from the concussion Sam was probably suffering from.

Throwing Sam up over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, Dean made his way slowly down off the crest and back to the Impala. He situated his unconscious brother in the front seat, oblivious to the water and the blood soaking his new leather interior. Racing back to the driver's seat Dean took a shuddering but steadying breath. He could fix this. He wasn't suicidal and neither was Sam. They weren't that far gone yet and he was going to make sure they never go that far. He was going to make sure. Suddenly his vision started blurring and he hastily whipped away the tears.

_Damn it, Sammy, just goddamn it. I'm so sorry._

TBC


	2. Standing Together

Blinding Darkness

Chapter 2 – Standing Together

He'd just gone back to their hotel, it was the standard operating procedure after all. Sam was more or less awake although not very clear on much, still he was able to get inside and on to one of the warm, hotel beds on his own. Well mostly. Dean didn't miss how Sam leaned into his touch, staggered and then burned with relief when Dean steadied him. The kid was literally dying for attention, for affection. Something Dean just hadn't been capable of providing. He hadn't even seen what this forced separation had done to Sam before but he was seeing it now and oh so clearly. Sam was starving for it. Famished even and if Dean was honest with himself, he was too. It felt good to be dependant upon someone else for his emotional wellbeing. Strange to have found that answer now after he'd almost freaking killed himself just a few hours before. Dean scoffed to himself, what's that they say about near death experiences and epiphanies anyway?

Sam lay on his bed on his side, holding a towel to the back of his head to keep the blood off the sheets. Dean approached him, having brought the first aid kit in from the car and settled on the bed behind him. 

"Okay, let's take a look." He pulled the towel away from Sam's head and studied the wound. "Good news, little brother. Doesn't look that bad, you're lucky you have such a hard head." The wound didn't look deep and the blood had already begun clotting so Dean just cleaned it out then bandaged it up. "Hey kiddo, look at me."

Sam lazily turned over, facing his brother with those brown eyes. Dean looked closely this time, glad to see the pupils were equal and responsive to his mag-light. "You're gonna be fine." He patted his shoulder and slid off the bed, giving Sam his space.

Sam rolled back onto his side, watching his brother with sad eyes. His head was clearing. "I should have talked you out of it? That's what you wanted me to do?

Dean didn't turn, didn't need to ask what he meant. "Don't Sam. It's over now."

Sam clenched his jaw and fought down a new rush of tears. Nodding he simply replied, "So I've never helped you at all." It wasn't a question. He closed his eyes, darkness of all types flooding him.

"Sam…" Dean trailed off. God, he didn't know how to do this. He wasn't good at it. By the time he figured that he needed to say something, anything to quell the raw hurt in his brother's voice, Sam had already spoken.

"It's okay, you don't need to say anything. If you don't want to talk, you don't have to. You don't have to talk to me. I was just trying… Dean, I don't know what I'm doing. Whatever it is, whatever I do decide to do, it's always wrong. So I'll just stop. I'll stop everything." Sam had rolled onto his back, his eyes blank, staring up at the ceiling.

Dean sat down on his bed opposite Sam staring at him. "Jesus Christ, Sammy."

There was a horrible drawn out silence. Sam was just waiting quietly for whatever it was that his brother would decide. He squinted at the ceiling, wondering not for the first time how it felt to be stuck there bleeding to death. Wondering if it could possibly feel worse than this.

"Stop it." The command in Dean's voice was obvious. Still Sam didn't understand.

"Stop what?"

Then Dean was across the room, grabbing Sam's shoulders and rolling him on to his side to face his bed. "Just stop staring at the ceiling. I hate that."

Sam sat up slowly, staring at his brother. "How'd you know I was…"

Dean laughed coldly. "You get this horrible look and you stare, your eyes glaze over and I know just what your thinking. That wasn't your fault. And neither is this."

"I saw it. I felt it Dean. You wanted…"

For the second time, Dean cut off his brother. "Only for a second, I swear. Only for one second and then … then he released me and it was a little better."

Sam was now staring at him, different than at that damned ceiling but staring non the same.

Dean sighed, not really prepared to have this conversation but knowing that he owed it to Sam. "And I'm sorry."

Sam choked on that. "You're… sorry?"

Dean nodded, determined now to start rebuilding the bridge that had been demolished between them. "Yeah. I am."

Sam sat up, eyes a little clearer but still just as confused. He stared at his brother, not fully comprehending what he was hearing. "I didn't … I don't understand. What are you sorry for?"

Dean meet his eyes. "For ignoring you. I've been a right asshole lately and I couldn't deal with any of my own stuff. I didn't want to and by extension I sure as hell couldn't deal with any of yours."

"I never blamed you for hurting Dean." Sam's eyes were filled with compassion and no small amount of relief. That combination of emotions so bare on his brother's face took the last crumbling bit of Dean's bravado and destroyed it.

"How about blaming me for hurting you Sam? That's something you don't seem to be doing either." Dean practically yelled at his sibling.

Sam broke their eye contact. "It's okay Dean."

"God Sammy, is it not okay." Dean knelt on the ground between their beds, his eyes wet. "It's not okay."

Sam was still looking away. "What do you want me to say? Every time I try to talk to you, you do something to push me away."

"I know, I know I do… I just, I don't know how to do this. I don't do this." Dean made a wide gesture, desperate now to get Sam to understand.

Sam squinted. "You don't … do this?"

Dean sighed. Stupid head injuries. "Talking. Bonding, what the fuck ever we're doing right now. That's what I don't do. I can't."

Sam's eyes went soft and it sent a strong bolt of guilt straight through Dean's heart. Goddamn it Sam, yell at me, hate me, hit me back, something other than feel bad for me!

Then Sam was speaking again with those huge, clear, brown eyes full of love. "Yes you can. Not all the time, but sometimes you need to let someone else help you stand."

Dean's head fell to rest on his arms on Sam's bed. "Sammy…"

Sam smiled and closed his eyes. Strange how much he now loved that name, strange how sweet it sounded coming from his big brother. Sam leaned forward. "It's going to be okay, Dean. You're not alone. I'll never let you be alone again."

Dean breathed in sharply. How the hell did he always know just how to read him? He started breathing raggedly. "Thanks"

Sam nodded. "We'll be okay." He put his hand firmly on Dean's shoulder and when Dean looked up fixed him with such a strong look of support, of fucking certainty that Dean believed him. God, he wanted to believe him.

Dean stood, eyes wet. "You should get some rest. You're head must be killing you."

"I've had worse."

Dean smiled at him. "Because that makes me feel better. Come on, go to bed. It'll all be better in the morning."

"That may have worked when I was six, but I'm a lot less naive now." Still, Sam climbed under the covers and rested his head down on his soft pillow.

Dean watched Sam close his eyes and adjust himself into a more comfortable position. "Trust me Sammy, this time I swear, everything will be better. I'm going to make it better."

Sam murmured something unintelligible under his breath, but the smile was on his face and he looked honestly happy for the first time in months. Dean's breathing evened out as he lay down on his own bed, eyes still on his brother. He was going to go back to doing his job, protecting his brother, life, body and soul. And strangely, that responsibility suddenly didn't feel so crushing, so hopeless as he studied the smile on Sam's face while he slept.


End file.
